Page 15 of One Last Summer
“Nothing’s changed,” I muttered, shifting my head back and forth to ease up the cricks in my neck. The village wasn’t frozen in time; there was wear and tear on everything, faded paint holding on for dear life, and a gazebo that looked like it was ready to retire. Rather, Peridot survived despite the passing of time, the town hall, library, and tiny church still standing there, almost defiant in the face of time racing past.
“Nothing ever changes here,” Nick corrected, his voice reverent. “Remember Margo, who ran the dining hall? Her family still owns the General Store.”
He pointed to the small dusty red building in the center of town, with its rickety porch that seemed more lopsided than I remembered, the sign of a life well lived. The New Hampshire state flag hung off the banister, and next to it was a banner that read “Live Free Or Die, But You Gotta Pay For Your Dinner.”
Trey flicked on the left blinker and steered the car onto the bumpy dirt road out of town, the final stretch of our trip. Instinctively, we all rolled down our windows at the same time, the fresh, summer air pushing its way into the car, which smelled of the now-stale Dunkin coffee we’d grabbed just after leaving Boston.
Trey slowed down to five miles an hour, the only way to savor the approach to camp. I swear all of our shoulders lowered a full inch. Just past a small gray-shingled cabin on the left was the lake, which appeared through the emerald-tipped pines in all its deep blue, sparkling glory. I let out a pleased sigh, and Nick leaned his head out the window, a blissful look on his face.
“We welcome you to Pine Lake Camp, we’re mighty glad you’re here,” Nick started singing. “We’ll send you in reverberating with a mighty cheer. Come on, Clara!”
I pressed my lips together and shook my head no, self-conscious. But Nick just waved me on expectantly. He and Amaya should swap notes in getting people to do what they want.
“We’ll sing you in, we’ll sing you out,” I sang begrudgingly, my voice getting just a little bit louder with each word. “And we’ll raise a mighty shout!”
It felt ridiculous, yelling these familiar words as the air swept my hair up against my face. But my tepid smile quickly bloomed into a grin, and god, it felt good to be giddy about something again.
“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here at Pine Lake Camp!” I sang with newfound abandon. And for the first time since Amaya pushed me out of the Four Points office and into the woods, I felt downright ecstatic to be here. Joyful, even. Fifteen-year-old Clara would almost certainly approve.
I was so caught up in the moment that it took me a beat to register that something was wrong after Trey blurted, “What the hell?”
“Whoa,” Nick said, all the sunny brightness that normally occupied his voice gone.
“What?” I asked, thoroughly confused, still high on singing.
Trey pointed toward Nick’s window, and when I looked to the right, I saw the giant wooden sign that read PINE LAKE CAMP standing proudly at the entrance, like always. Its stark, bright white background had long since faded in the sun, but the name, printed in deep forest-green, was still as clear as ever. Next to it stood Steve and Marla waving at us, the sun glistening off their speckled gray hair.
And just behind them, Mack.
But this wasn’t what had thrown Nick and Trey off. It was the sign next to them staked into the ground, small, square, with sharp blue lettering.
SOLD.
8
“HOLY SHIT,” NICK muttered from the passenger seat.
“They finally decided to do it.” Trey’s voice was almost reverent. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
Nick squeezed his boyfriend’s arm while keeping his gaze out the window. “Babe, pull over,” he demanded, his chipper voice now stern and insistent.
I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I knew this place intimately, like a lover’s body. But I’d also avoided it, let life keep me away, prioritized other things, and pushed returning to camp and seeing all my friends to the bottom of my to-do list. I’d just always assumed Pine Lake would be here, waiting for me when I needed it.
The feeling stirring inside of me felt distinctly like sorrow. But I hadn’t been to Pine Lake in so long; I wasn’t quite sure I was even allowed to be upset about Steve and Marla selling the place. A long list of shoulds ticked through my head, the first one being that I should have come back here long before now.
Following Nick and Trey out of the car, I raised a hand to my brow to shield my eyes from the sun, which was still shockingly bright in the late afternoon, even with sunglasses on.
“We figured if we stood here long enough, eventually you kids would show up,” Steve joked as we walked toward him, a calm smile on his face, hands on his hips. He looked skinnier and just a bit more crooked than the last time I saw him, his trimmed black hair now fully gray.
He had the weathered, rough complexion of a white person who had spent 90 percent of his life outside in the sun. His exterior was all hard edges—a crooked nose broken skiing in his twenties, thick, furrowed brows that almost always appeared knitted in thought. His quiet demeanor could often be misinterpreted as sternness, but he operated from a place of kindness. He’d figured out how to keep Pine Lake in business while offering up more financial aid than other camps in the area, making it possible for kids like me to attend.
Marla, on the other hand, was soft inside and out, her dark brown, apple-shaped face youthful and bright despite the hint of lines that creased her skin. In all the years I’d known her, I’d only ever seen her gray hair pinned back in a twist, and she was always good for a hug when a camper was homesick. But Marla had a hunch to her posture now, and she also looked thinner than I remembered. Still, she was eyeing us with that familiar, gentle face, as if she was ecstatic to see us.
“Oh my god, you’re seriously selling camp?” Nick spat out the words even before eking out a hello. He was the first to reach Steve and Marla, and he leaned in to hug them as Trey and I hovered behind him.
“Hi to you too, Nicholas,” Steve said playfully as he pulled away. “Trey!”
Steve wrapped him in a one-armed hug, just as Marla stepped forward and pulled me into an embrace. She barely came up to my cheek, and her hug was warm and comforting in a way I didn’t know I was craving until I was wrapped up in it.
